Amarantine
by technopony
Summary: Sirius Black has a long lost and mysterious daughter, who Voldemort wants on his side... what happens when things don't go as he planned. Just started this but I have an idea of where it is going... DMOC
1. Prologue

Prologue

Amarantine Black. The first time Harry Potter heard the name, he was hit with a powerful feeling that he couldn't put his finger on. His dead godfather had never told him that he had a daughter. How could he have not told Harry something so important? But then there was the overweighing fact that _Sirius had a daughter_… perhaps, somehow, he lived on in her. Still raw with the reality of Sirius's death, Harry clung tightly to anything associated with his godfather, not truly able to accept that he was gone. So, feeling apprehensive, excited and a bit lost, Harry made his way to Dumbledore's office on the first day of Fifth year, preparing to meet this girl for the first time.

When he arrived, however, only the silver haired old wizard and his phoenix Fawks were there to greet him. Peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore motioned for the boy to take a seat across from him. Before Harry could speak, the old man stopped his words with a raised hand.

"Before you speak, or think, there are things you must know. I know you are here to see the young lady, which you will, in time. I know this must be somewhat of a shock to you, and I am sure you have many questions. I will answer as many of them as I feel is within my right and duty. Now, I'm sure you are wondering, who exactly is Amarantine Black? That is a bit of a complicated story. You are familiar with the most ancient forms of magic, Harry?"

"Er… the type practiced in the Medieval ages, sir?"

"Much farther in the past than that, Harry… much farther. Yes, it was a very long time ago indeed that the Elves walked this earth. The elves did not practice magic as we know it- in fact, they did not call it magic at all. It was more of a oneness with the earth and the stars, a harnessing of the power of nature. The elves were very powerful indeed. They were also immortal, though eternal life is not always the blessing it appears to those who face death." He paused, as if inviting Harry to ask the question that was on his mind.

"Sir… if these elves were immortal, why do you refer to them in the past tense? What happened?"

"They live still, though not in the numbers they once used too. As history has it, all save one left our earth many years ago, at the dawn of man. My suspicion is that they reside somewhere on this Earth, concealed by powers unknown to even Wizards. But we are concerned at the moment only with the one elvish maiden who remained in the world of men. She was in love with a mortal man, and gave up her immortality to remain with him. This man was no ordinary man, mind you; he was the King of men, endowed with great nobility and long life. Though they did not know it at the time, his family was magic. Their bloodline gave rise to witches and wizards, Harry; we are all descended from the Kings of men, the Dunedain. But I digress. The importance of what I am telling you lies with the union of this King and the elvish maiden. Though the elvish blood in their descendents was diluted further with every passing generation, it runs stronger than human blood. So even now, the direct descendents of the elvish lady are especially powerful witches and wizards. The last daughter of that line died only fourteen years ago, Harry. A brilliant young witch named Serilliant, and the mother of Sirius's child. She was killed by-"

"Voldemort, wasn't it?" Harry cut in, unable to restrain himself. "But… was Sirius married?"

"No, Harry, he was not. Though I do believe he loved Serilliant with all his heart. But it was not to be. If there was anyone more marked than you, Harry, it was her. Voldemort could not have such a powerful witch fighting against him. She was given the chance to ally with him, and she refused. She was willing to die to fight his evil. And she did." Dumbledore paused with a little half-sigh, seemingly lost in a very sad memory. Harry sat waiting, uncomfortable. He had so many burning questions. This meant that Amarantine must have elvish blood too, and that her identity must be hidden from Voldemort to protect her life. Was that why Harry had never heard of her, even from Sirius? Indignant as he was that Sirius had not trusted him with knowledge of his daughter, he knew that it was for good reason. Voldemort was far too close to Harry's mind to trust him with that information. Still, that reality hurt. Harry searched Dumbledore's lined face, pleading silently for answers. At length, the old wizard met his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Harry… where was I? Ah, yes… well, before Serilliant was killed, of course, Amarantine was born. Before she was a year old, her mother was cruelly taken from her. Voldemort did not know she existed, or he would have killed her too. And barely two months later, she lost her father as well. When Sirius was sent to Azkaban, the night…"

"The night my parents died," finished Harry, chokingly.

"Yes… that night. You were not the only child I rushed into muggle hands that night. She, like you, needed complete protection and obscurity from the wizarding world. For ten years, she lived a relatively sheltered life. But such things can never last, can they, Harry? The ministry knew that she existed. Daughter of the most powerful witch in recent times and a supposed murderer and dark wizard, they feared her. It is sad that they feared a little girl, but it is the truth. And unfortunately, right around the time when you were entering Hogwarts, the ministry found her."

"What did they do, sir?" Harry wondered what they could possibly do to an innocent little girl.

"They locked her in Azkaban for five years. She was only released just now, Harry, because of certain – methods of persuasion – that I used with the ministry to my advantage. That is not of importance to you. What concerns you now is that you understand what she has been through, and what she is. Everyone is innocent, Harry, until they prove otherwise. But be warned: Amarantine is a powerful witch. She has a good, brave soul… the sorting hat has placed her in Gryffindor. But she has not had much care or guidance in the wizarding world… quite the opposite. You must help her learn to use her newfound powers responsibly. Everyone must make their own choices, but they are guided by others. Amarantine will look to her friends at Hogwarts for guidance. Do you understand why I am telling you this?"

"Yes, sir. I do. I… but sir, now that Voldemort is back… does he know about her?"

"Harry, we tried to keep her identity concealed all these years, but there are death eaters in Azkaban. The ministry thought it was protecting itself by holding her there, but it may have been doing the opposite. If the death eaters escape and go to their master… which I fear might happen quite soon…he will know."

"That's why you wanted her at Hogwarts, so you can protect her?"

"That… and also to give her another chance at life. I only wish I could have succeeded in freeing her earlier… so that Sirius could have known. But enough talk," Dumbledore said abruptly, "Let me introduce you to Ms. Black."


	2. Dark Queen

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, I own nothing but Amarantine and the plot.

In the place of a Dark Lord you would have a Queen! Not dark but beautiful and terrible as the Morn! Treacherous as the Seas! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!

J.R.R. Tolkein

Chapter 1

It was the last day of their Sixth Year term. The four students made their way through the halls of the castle, trunks levitated behind them. The two boys and the bushy-haired girl were talking animatedly, but the fourth student trailed a few steps behind. She had long, lush red hair and fair skin, but despite her beauty her piercing grey-blue eyes rarely betrayed a smile. Spending five years in Azkaban could do that to a person. At the moment, though, one thought did bring a ray of golden happiness to her mind. As much as she loved Hogwarts, Amarantine was happy to be returning to her muggle "family" for the summer holidays for one reason: her horses. Growing up on a farm in the beautiful rolling countryside of England, Amarantine had spent her childhood on horseback. Imagining every detail of her beautiful red stallion in her mind, she was startled when she bumped into something and suddenly found herself sprawled on the ground.

"Hey, watch it!" She heard someone snarl. Shaking the stars out of her eyes and turning as she rose to her feet, she saw Harry glaring at Malfoy. Evidently, she had walked right into him. Before either boy could do anything that would get them in trouble, she quickly stepped between them.

"It's ok Harry, I honestly wasn't watching where I was going-"

" Just be thankful you ran into me and not that mudblood friend of yours. Wouldn't want to catch anything dirty, now would you?" Malfoy shot a disgusted look in Hermione's direction, and turned to saunter off, but not before catching Amarantine's eyes in an icy stare. Despite their hatred of one another, they held a sort of mutual respect for one another; Malfoy for Amarantine's lineage and power, and she for the hint of evil she saw in his eyes. There was almost something she admired in it.

Breaking his gaze, she turned away before rounding on him with her wand and sending him flying into the shrubbery ten feet away. Shaking off Harry and Ron's high-fives, she locked arms with Hermione, who was looking a bit upset from Malfoy's taunt.

"Ugh, I think I've caught something _dirty_," she said, loud enough for Malfoy to hear. "Help me get it off?"

Most of the summer passed by quite uneventfully. Amarantine missed her wizard friends, but was kept updated of the goings-on in the wizarding world by a steady stream of letters from Harry, Ron and Hermione. Lonliness was nothing new to her. And now, unlike in Azkaban, she had someone to share it with, and wasn't trapped within the black despair of her own mind.

It was a bright summer day, just made for galloping through the countryside on horseback. This day, Amarantine was on Casanova, her bright chestnut stallion. His deep red coat glowed the same color as his rider's hair in the summer sunlight. The grass had not yet begun to brown with the coming of late August, and the strong scent of flowers, berries and sweet hay hung in the thick air. Breathing in deeply, Amarantine pushed all her worries to the back of her mind. Concentrating only on the brisk, athletic footfalls of the horse beneath her, she was lulled into a lazy sort of trance. The two continued in this manner for several minutes, slowly making their way through the field towards the coolness of the woods beyond.

Amarantine was broken from her reverie by a snort and a leap from Casanova. Pitching forward, she grabbed his mane to steady herself, then looked about to determine the cause of his antics. Spotting a red fox darting away through the tall grass, she grinned.

"Come on, Cazz - let's get him!"

And so the chase began. She squeezed him forward after the fox and gave him his head as he launched into a powerful, three-beated canter. The wind whipped through her hair and her eyes began to tear up, they were going to fast. She managed an occasional glimpse of a bushy red tail bounding through the grass ahead of them, and followed the fox over a low stone wall and through a stream before reaching the edge of the wood and pulling Cazz up. Reluctantly, he jigged to a walk, snorting to clear his nose but not breathing hard. That run was just a warm up for him.

"Good boy," Amarantine laughed, watching the fox disappear into the undergrowth. "What do you say to a nice long hack in the woods? We can stay out as long as we want today, little boy." Not really waiting for an answer, she turned him towards the trees and let the cool of the forest wash over them.

Despite herself, as her horse carefully picked his way along the trail through the trees, Amarantine began to think. She usually tried to avoid that, because it always led to something unpleasant. Her mind wasn't really a very pleasant place to be. More like a dark, cold place that was to be avoided at all costs. But all the same, she found herself slipping into it. First, as they usually did, her thoughts lingered on Sirius. Her father. The father she had never really known. He became known to her in her first months in the wizard prison. Learning of her imprisonment, he squeezed through his bars as a dog and came to visit her as often as circumstances allowed. Being ten years old, thrown into a wizard prison, and having a big black dog tell you that he is your father was certainly a lot to take in. And through his visits, brief though they were, Amarantine began to piece together the truth about her life. But if he loved her as he said he did, why did he leave her to rot inside herself in that place? She had been angry, so angry, when he had escaped without her. And then to lose him to death less than two years later. How could you be angry at someone who was dead?

And then there was the matter of Harry Potter. Harry had looked out for her, protected her, cared for her since she had rejoined the wizarding world at Hogwarts. He and his friends were good people, Amarantine knew. Slowly but surely, they began to melt her icy exterior borne from her years in Azkaban, where all hope and happiness was sucked from her soul. Slowly, she felt herself thaw, and feel again, and feel more like a real person. But there was still something missing, and she knew it, though she doubted her friends did. Though on the outside she might be flesh and blood, her soul was frozen.

When it came to right and wrong, good and evil, she was somewhat indifferent. Despite being friends with the good, honourable Gryffindors, and being in that house herself, Amarantine wasn't as horrified by the cruel antics of certain Slytherins as her friends. In fact, sometimes she secretly enjoyed them. She could feel enough to know that this should scare her. But not enough to know that it was wrong.

And now, she had another problem to deal with. All of Hogwarts had figured out that Harry felt more than friendship towards Amarantine. Of course, being the gentleman that he was, he hadn't done anything about it. But Amarantine knew from the way he looked at her, from the way he said her name, that he worshipped her. And that scared her, because Harry was a good person and a good friend. And she was not sure she was even capable of love…if he could see what was inside her soul, the malice and the hatred and the cruelty, she was sure he would hate her.

"Oh Cazz," she sighed, winding her fingers through his mane. "People are so confusing. I wish I could just stay here with you forever. After so many years of being hidden from the world, how am I supposed to know how to face it?"

The big stallion didn't answer, just continued walking down the trail, and didn't protest as the girl buried her face in his mane and began to cry.

It was dusk before the girl and horse turned for home. Tired after the long ride, Amarantine had her feet out of the stirrups and only one hand on the reins. Suddenly, a deafening BANG resounded through the wood. Casanova took off, panicked. Amarantine stayed on, but before she could gather her reins to halt him, he darted off the path and into the dense wood in his mad dash. The last thing Amarantine saw was a tree branch coming towards her head.

"Shit!" she screamed, as everything went black.

Amarantine awoke to a dull throbbing pain in her head. She felt a soft bed beneath her. As she came closer to consciousness, she remembered getting knocked off her horse by a tree branch. "I guess my muggle 'family' found me, then," she thought. It was unlike Cazz to spook like that, but she knew that any horse could have his moments. She struggled to open her eyes, and when she succeeded, the light was painful. She blinked a few times, trying to take in her surroundings. Satin bedsheets, a chandelier above her hanging from a high ceiling. She definitely was not home.

"Ah, you're awake. Welcome, Ms. Black. I assume you know who I am."

Amarantine turned her head painfully, looking for the owner of the voice. Then she saw him, sitting imperiously on a chair at her bedside. Yes, she did know him. Anyone would know that evil smirk, that long, white-blond hair, those expensive robes.

"Malfoy," she croaked. "Wha…"

"What are you doing here? Well, let me apologize for scaring your horse earlier. I am sorry that I had to take you like this, but I had the feeling that you would not come with me willingly. But please be aware, you are not a prisoner. The Dark Lord has a proposal for you. Will you hear it?"

Amarantine was still trying to make sense of where she was, of what had happened. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy, a known death eater, had kidnapped her and now wished for her to speak to Voldemort. This was a lot to get her mind around. Coherent thought seemed to be escaping her just now.

"Ah, that doesn't matter," Lucius muttered in response to her silence. "You see, it doesn't much matter if you will hear him or not; that is not up to you, my dear. Now, our Lord is not able to be with us tonight, but has instructed me to relay a message from him to you, Amarantine. He knows that the company you keep is - ahem – less than satisfactory, but that can be overlooked for the moment. You are a very powerful witch, Amarantine, and our Lord sees greatness in you. Under his tutelage he knows that you can become more powerful than you could ever imagine. He would teach you ways of control and power that you will never learn at the school of yours. And he is willing to help you achieve greatness, Ms. Black, if you will join with him. You would be more powerful than even," Lucius paused, and a pained look crossed his face, "myself."

For a fleeting moment, the offer tempted Amarantine more than she would ever admit, even to herself. Her icy soul turned slightly colder at the thought of such power. Lucius saw it in her eyes at that moment; they were cold, sharp and calculating, just like his own. And he was almost afraid. It was at that moment that he knew she had real power. The Dark Lord was right to want her on his side. Oh, he would use her, he knew. Before she came close to becoming as powerful as him, he would have her killed. But better to use her while he could.

Apparently, Amarantine seemed to realize this too. It was frankly an insult to her to be asked to be a pawn in the Dark Lord's game. She was more than a pawn, and she knew it.

"No," she said firmly, coldly. And then she remembered Harry, and her friends, and her father and mother, who had been killed by Voldemort, and the harsh gleam left her eyes. She seemed somehow diminished. "No, never. NEVER."

Lucius let the corners of his mouth twist upward into a smirk at her words. He had expected this, and his Lord had told him what to do if she said no. This was going to be fun.

"We thought you might say as much, Amarantine. I think you might regret it. But you cannot take it back now. If you will not serve him fully, you will not serve him at all."

With that, he strode over and grabbed her wrists painfully, dragging her off the bed. She looked around frantically for her wand as she struggled against his strong grip. She might be an exceptionally powerful witch, but her small frame was no match for his strength. Without magic, she had nothing. Crushing her to him with his arms he flicked his wand and with a "pop!" Amarantine found herself in a cold, dark room before she could open her mouth to scream. There were no windows, and the walls and floor were made of hard stone.

"Alright love," he drawled smoothly, menacingly, "lets have some fun. _Crucio_!"

It was pain beyond imagining. Amarantine had never before been the victim of an unforgivable curse, and thought she would be able to handle it better. She couldn't. It was like a fire of sharp daggers had been set inside every cell of her body. She screamed and writhed and cursed every second it went on that she was still alive. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in the first circle of Hell, it stopped. She lay on the cold floor, panting and whimpering, unable to move. Then she felt cold hands on her, before she was thrown roughly against a wall. She vaguely heard a crack, and felt blood pouring down the side of her face. As she slumped to the ground, the cruciatus curse came again, and again, and again. She didn't know how long it lasted, she only knew she wanted to die.

Then suddenly, something welled up in the back of her mind. It was like a powerful force from within her, pushing Lucius's curse away. A tingling sensation came over her body and she heard Lucius yell as he flew across the dungeon, propelled by the force of the broken curse.

But then he was standing over her again. And he was angry. Very angry

"So, bitch," Lucius said, kicking her hard in the ribs, "too good for me, eh? Well, we'll just have to play the muggle way. Since you _are_ muggle-loving filth."

Amarantine cried out as he kicked her roughly again, then punched her in the face. His big, jewel studded ring drew deep scratches across her pale cheek, and she felt hot, sticky blood begin to trickle from her nose and lips.

He put the cruciatus on her again, and this time she was too weak to break through. As pain shot through her body, she didn't notice as he ripped her bloodied robes off her body, leaving her in nothing but her riding boots, her pants and her bra. As the curse lifted, she was vaguely aware of him pulling down her pants, and forcing himself between her legs. She let out one piercing shriek before he silenced her with a rough kiss.


	3. broken

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, I own nothing but Amarantine and the plot.

_The worst is over now and we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

'_Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

Seether "Broken"

Draco Malfoy woke suddenly, sitting bolt upright in his bed. Heart pounding in the pitch blackness of the night, he wondered what had woken him. Then it came again: a scream that pierced through the darkness like a knife. Well, that wasn't all that uncommon really, not when you lived with Lucius Malfoy. Draco knew what went on in the dungeons deep below his bedroom, though he was not yet of age to take part in his father's "business". Sighing, he lay back down and closed his eyes, trying to fall back to sleep. Usually he wasn't extremely bothered by the fact that his father kept prisoners in the manor; after all, Draco too was a Death Eater. What would he care for the muggles, mudbloods and blood traitors that suffered in his father's dungeons? Certainly, they were filth and deserved what they got.

This night, though, Draco could not shake off the feeling of unease that hit him when he heard the scream. He tossed and turned, willing his heart to quiet and let sleep take him once more, but to no avail. Ten minutes later, he gave in and rolled out of bed. He grasped his wand, muttered "_Lumos_", and used the bright light that appeared to find his robes and make his way quickly and quietly to the door. He didn't know why he couldn't sleep, but figured a midnight stroll to the dungeons wouldn't hurt. Maybe, since he was nearly 17, his father would let him join in the fun.

The manor was large, and the dungeons quite deep below it; it took Draco nearly fifteen minutes to reach the entrance to the dungeons. Disappointingly, Draco had not heard any more noise from below. Probably his father was done, and he had missed out once again. But he had to be sure. Opening the door quietly, he entered into a long stone corridor. The candles on the wall flickered, giving the place an eerie feel. Draco was right at home of course, but he did wish he had worn slippers. The stone was cold and unforgiving on his bare feet.

Pointing his glowing wand along the corridor, he soon came to a door that was open half an inch. "That's the one," he thought, and made to enter. But a second later he jumped back into the shadows and muttered "_nox_" under his breath, sending him into total darkness. He heard footsteps approaching the door, and when it swung open Lucius emerged. Now that he thought about it, Draco wasn't sure how pleased his father would be to see him down here. He held his breath as his father passed him, robes billowing imperiously behind him. The receding sound of footsteps and the final thud of the door at the end of the hall being pulled strongly shut told Draco that his father was gone. Letting out a sigh, he turned quickly to the doorway from which Lucius had come. He had never been allowed in any of the rooms before – perhaps a quick peek wouldn't hurt? At the very least it would be something more to impress his fellow Slytherins with back at school.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, and stepped inside the door.

What he saw took his breath away.

He had been expecting to see a bloodied, broken body. Perhaps the person would be moaning in pain, a sound which sent chills of anticipation down his spine. Perhaps the person would see him and draw back in terror. He would relish in the fear in their eyes.

But he had not expected that the bloodied, broken body would be someone he knew. Not only someone he knew, but someone he respected and possibly even did not hate.

All he could do was stand in shocked silence, slowing taking in the sight of Amarantine Black lying in a pool of blood in his own house. She was curled into a ball and shaking slightly from cold, pain and fear, wearing nothing but a bra. Her ripped, bloodied robes had been carelessly thrown over her body. Her blue eyes were glazed and unmoving, seemingly seeing nothing though they were open wide. Draco moved shakily towards her.

"Amarantine?" he asked softly, tentatively, falling onto his knees beside her trembling form. There was no response – she continued to stare straight ahead, not showing that she felt his presence at all. _Shit_, Draco thought. _Shit Shit Shit… holy fuck. What do I do now? I can't just leave her here, can I? _Draco had never been faced with a situation as serious as this before. _This is real_, he thought. _This is what he does to filth, but now he has done it to her! _But Amarantine wasn't mudblood filth, he knew. She was the most pure-blooded of pure-bloods, and he couldn't understand why a witch of such high standing was lying senseless in a pool of blood in his own house. That is what happened to filth that got what they deserved. Not his equals. Not Amarantine. Yet here she was.

Timidly, somewhat repulsed by the mutilated body in front of him, Draco reached out a pale hand to touch her shoulder. The moment their skin connected she whimpered, and his hand shot back in surprise and uncertainty. _Get a grip, Draco_, he told himself firmly. He knew what had to be done. Slipping off his cloak, he pulled Amarantine's ruined robes from her body and tried not to look at her nakedness as he wrapped her quickly in his black cloak. She whimpered and squirmed at his touch, but otherwise did not give any indication that she knew who he was. Sickening slightly at her sticky hot blood on his hands, he took a deep breath and gathered her awkwardly, but as gently as he could, into his arms. She latched her slender fingers tightly onto his clothes with whatever strength she had left, clutching him as if she would never let go. He pressed her closer to him, trying to share his warmth and strength, shocked still at the trembling body in his arms, at the blood seeping into his clothes. Sure he had studied the Dark Arts all his life, and been fascinated by blood, pain and suffering, but this was the first time he had really experienced it. This was real, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"Hey, hey… its ok… I'll get you out of here… just, just hold on," he said softly, trying to calm himself as much as Amarantine. She didn't respond. The only sound in the dungeon was her ragged breathing. Extinguishing his wand, Draco stood up, carrying her light form with little effort. He wasn't sure where to go but back to his room. His father would surely notice she was missing in the morning, but what mattered was right now. For some reason, he knew he couldn't leave her there to die or face whatever else his father had in store for her. She wasn't exactly a friend, but though she didn't know it he had always admired her, as much as Draco Malfoy admired anyone. She was powerful, smart, beautiful – and though she was friends with Harry Potter, there was something unseen about her that drew him to her… something _dark_.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

The first rays of morning sunlight found Draco Malfoy wide awake, sitting in a chair in his room still holding Amarantine. Upon returning with her to his room, he has been unable to pry her fingers from his shirt in order to lay her on his bed. He had healed what wounds he could with his wand, but knew that she had lost something no medicine in the world could ever give back to her. He also knew the lingering affects of the cruciatus when he saw them, and knew that nothing but time could ease the pain that still coursed through her battered body. He could only hope that she would be strong enough to escape before his father realized she was missing.

Sometime around dawn, Amarantine stopped shaking. Her grip on Draco's shirt lessened slightly but her face was still buried in his chest. He tried speaking again.

"Hey, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?" She shook her head slightly, not looking up. But the fact that she was responding encouraged Draco.

"Look, you have to get out of here, now. It's not safe here. I wish I could keep you safe but I can't. You have to get out, you have to save yourself. Can you do that?" Again, she shook her head no. Draco sighed. He had to help her but he didn't know how. Her only chance was if she was strong enough to get herself out. He was sure she wasn't strong enough to apparate.

"Look Amarantine, I know you even if you don't know me. I know that you're strong. I know its hard but you have to be strong right now. I can't get you out of here, only you can. Can you ride a broom?" This time, Amarantine muttered "no", almost imperceptibly. "Horse," she said. _So she can't fly, _Draco thought. _Great. Not like she would make it far in this condition anyway. A horse wouldn't do her much good either. Guess I'm not left with much of a choice…_

"Ok… ok, I can apparate you somewhere… do you want to go home? Where do you live?" He knew she needed medical care, and would be better off at St. Mungo's, but he also knew that it wasn't safe for her there. She had to go somewhere out of the public eye, or his father would find her.

"Hogwarts," she mumbled, her voice a bit stronger though still muffled by his shirt over her lips. "Hogwarts… take me to Hogwarts."

So he did.


	4. Don't sleep

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, I own nothing but Amarantine and the plot.

_You'll never know the way your words have haunted me  
Wake up in a dream   
frozen fear  
all your hands on me  
I can't scream  
I can't escape the twisted way you think of me  
I feel you in my dreams and I don't sleep_

_Evanescence "Snow White Queen"_

Amarantine sat in the headmaster's office, listlessly twirling a strand of shiny red hair around her index finger. A week had passed since she had found herself in the Hogwarts hospital wing, being tended by a very worried looking Madame Pomfrey. How she got there, she had no idea. She remembered riding through the forest, then coming to in the Death Eater's dungeon. And everything that happened then she remembered in vivid detail. Every curse, every touch, every bit of pain and shame as her innocence and dignity were stripped from her. But to what end? Surely Lucius Malfoy would not have let her go so easily. She couldn't make it out. Everything was foggy in her memory, muddled by the unforgivable charms. After a week under Madame Pomfrey's care, the last effects of the curses were gone and all her broken bones and bruises had been healed. The witch had finally announced her healed, and she was to return to her muggle home in the country for the next week until she would return for the start of term. But before she left, Dumbledore wanted to see her.

The old wizard sat across from her, studying her in concerned silence. She hadn't exactly emerged from Azkaban a happy, carefree child – more accurately, she had looked as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. He hoped that her recent ordeal would not undo all the progress she had made since then. In her two years at Hogwarts she had attained some semblance of a normal life, but Dumbledore knew that five years of childhood lost to the dementors could not soon be forgotten. Nor would being tortured with an unforgivable curse at the hands of Lucius Malfoy.

"Ms. Black… how are you feeling?" Dumbledore spoke softly, his eyes searching for hers across the desk. She didn't meet his gaze.

"Fine." There was a silence. "Sir," she added.

"I know you are not fine, and I certainly don't expect you to be. What I ask of you is that you talk to your friends, Amarantine. I know it is hard for you to connect with people but that is what your friends are for. Though you may not think it, I know they will want to help you. Now, I do not wish to burden you, but I hope you might tell me what Mr. Malfoy wanted from you. Its important that I know that, as I suspect it had something to do with Voldemort. I believe I am correct?"

Amarantine shifted uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. Then she looked up and met Dumbledore's grey eyes with her fierce blue ones. She didn't speak immediately, however. Her mind was conflicted. She was scared to admit that Voldemort had wanted her on his side. Dumbledore had gotten her out of Azkaban believing that she deserved a chance to prove she wasn't a Dark witch. But Voldemort knew that she had potential to be very dark and powerful indeed, and saying so would only confirm the Ministry's fears. She didn't want Dumbledore to think that his trust in her had been misplaced. She couldn't completely trust him. She couldn't completely trust anyone.

"He wanted… he wanted me to get to Harry," she lied, still holding his gaze firmly. If she looked away, he would know she was lying.

Dumbledore knew that the young witch was not telling the truth, but there was such intensity in her eyes that he almost believed her. Whatever she was hiding, he knew he would not find by attempting to force it out of her. He would know eventually, but it would take longer than he had anticipated. Still, he was not surprised. Dealing with Amarantine had never been a simple or straightforward matter.

"I know there is more to it than that, but if you do not wish to tell me, I will not pry. Lemondrop?" he asked, offering her a tray of candies. She shook her head almost unnoticeably, but the small gesture was enough.

"Well then, I believe we have one more matter to discuss before you leave here. Poppy tells me you don't remember who brought you here to Hogwarts?"

"No… I have no idea, sir. I… I don't quite understand it, really. Do you know, sir? Did you see who it was?"

Dumbledore smiled fleetingly to himself. He knew very well who had apparated with the girl to Hogsmeade, left her in the Three Broomsticks where he knew the barkeeper would find her, then disappeared before anyone had seen him, or so he thought. But Dumbledore kept these thoughts to himself. "No, I regret that I was hoping you could tell me. Ah well. Such are the mysteries of life."

He made to stand, as if to escort his student out, but Amarantine had something to ask him. "Sir," she asked, "I was wondering if I might ask a favor. I was hoping that maybe this year, I could bring my two horses to Hogwarts with me… they could live in the paddock by Hagrid's hut. They wouldn't be much trouble…" she trailed off, looking hopefully up at the headmaster. He noticed the hope in her eyes; it was the first emotion she had shown since her encounter with Lucius Malfoy. That alone was enough for him to decide.

"That is certainly a unique request, but I'm sure Hagrid would be more than up to the task. You will be responsible for them, however – it will be up to you to care for them on a daily basis, on top of your studies."

"Of course! Thank you. But, um… how should I get them here? I can't really see bringing them to the train station-"

"I will send Hagrid to your home to bring them here on the first day of term. I know he isn't technically allowed to use magic, but let's just say I am sure he will get them here swiftly and safely." Dumbledore winked at her, and she let her lips form a fleeting half-smile before returning to their usual emotionless expression.

"Now, your home has been temporarily connected to the floo network," Dumbledore said, handing Amarantine some floo powder and stepping toward his fireplace. "Have a safe journey, and I look forward to seeing you at the start of term."

Muttering a thanks, Amarantine threw the powder into the fire and stepped in.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The Great Hall was filled with excited chatter as the welcoming feast began. It was the first day of the new term. Seated between Harry and Ginny, Amarantine moved her food around the plate to give the appearance that she was eating it. Her cheeks were slightly sunken and her eyes bore dark circles, clearly revealing her lack of sleep. Her friends could not help but notice that she was not herself, but she had told no one the real reason behind her insomnia and lack of appetite. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the pain, heard her screams, felt his hands on her again. Felt him on top of her and in her and ripping her heart and soul to shreds.

"Earth to Amarantine," Harry said, snapping his fingers in front of her face. She jumped, returning to reality. "You ok? You've barely eaten anything. What's with you this year?"

Pushing thoughts of Lucius Malfoy to the back of her mind, Amarantine avoided Harry's eye and replied, "I'm fine. Really, just don't feel so well today. Maybe a touch of the stomach flu. But I'm sure its nothing to worry about." She forced a small smile.

Harry was by no means convinced, but had no real reason to suspect she was lying. Reluctantly, he turned to Ron, who was pointing to something on the other side of the hall. The two erupted in fits of laughter, but Amarantine didn't look up to see what held their attention. Instead, she took that moment to slip away from the table unnoticed. Moving as soft and swift as a ghost across the hall, only one pair of eyes followed her steps to the doors and watched her exit the Great Hall. Glancing behind her to make sure she wasn't being followed, she made for the great doors of the castle. It was after hours and students were supposed to be inside, not out on the grounds, but Amarantine placed her hand on the door, muttered a spell to lift the security on the door, and soon stepped out into the welcoming blanket of night. She stood there a moment, breathing in the fresh air and letting the gentle breeze play with her cloak. Even though she had been out of Azkaban for two years, she still took every opportunity to relish in the feel of life and nature around her. The memory of a childhood spent alone with only dementors and four cold stone walls for company would not soon be forgotten.

Amarantine walked with purpose towards Hagrid's cabin, which was deserted as he was up at the welcoming feast. She knew that her horses should have arrived earlier that day, and she wanted to make sure they were settling in well. _"Lumos," _she whispered, and in the light from her wand she saw that a small stable now stood near the cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the structure was made of old, moss-covered stone and looked as if it was as old as the castle itself, even though she knew it had not been there the year before. But before she could give much thought to that, a soft nicker from inside the stable caught her attention. She smiled to herself, and climbed lithely over the paddock fence as she called to them.

"Cazz, Julius! Hey boys…you guys okay?" Both horses answered with snorts of anticipation. As they hoped, their red-haired girl entered their stable, illuminated by the light from her wand, and withdrew two apples from under her cloak.

"I got these special just for you two… knicked them from the feast! So appreciate them," she chided fondly, as both horses stretched out their necks and grasped at the treats with their lips in an effort to reach them over the stall doors. Delighting in the crunching, slurping sounds her boys made as they chewed the fruit in her hands, Amarantine laughed lightly. Even after all she had been through, horses could always make lift her spirits.

_She could feel the cold, damp stone beneath her. Damp with her own blood. She didn't know how long she had been laying there, but realized with a start that she couldn't move. Whatever the curse was, she couldn't break through it, and began to panic. She couldn't see anything in the darkness, and despite her magical prowess felt completely helpless, a feeling she didn't like one bit._

_Then a great wave of pain shook her body, and Amarantine realized with horror that it was no curse that held her immobile; it was her own broken body. Suddenly aware, she felt pain like fiery knives stabbing into her back, legs and arms. Summoning her willpower, she rolled over onto her side and pushed herself up with her arms in one great effort. Once there, her arms shook as if they could not or would not support her weight, and the pain was so great she bit her lip, drawing blood in her effort not to cry out in agony. A small moan of pain escaped her bloody lips nonetheless._

"_Oh, what have we here? You're awake, I see. Good. I was growing rather tired of waiting for you to wake up. The Dark Lord is not pleased with your decision to defy him, Amarantine. Have you had a change of heart?" The cold, drawling voice grew stronger in her ears as the footsteps of its owner approached the spot where she lay. Slowly and painfully, she raised her chin defiantly._

"_Never, Malfoy, never will I serve your master," she spat, "never will I grovel at his feet like you-"_

"_Enough!" Malfoy shouted angrily, grabbing hold of her robes and dragging her across the floor, where he lifted her and pinned her against the wall. Breathing heavily, he glared into her ashen face, his pointed features contorted in both rage and lust. Calming slightly, he moved closer to Amarantine, crushing her trembling form against his body. Wiping a stray lock of bloodied hair out of her eyes with his slender bejeweled fingers, he spoke softly._

"_The Dark Lord thought you might have such sentiments. In which case, he gave me the liberty to do with you as I please. Do you have any… suggestions… how we might spend our time together?" Lucius's voice took on a husky quality, and he began to lick and bite at her neck. Amarantine squirmed in his grasp and screamed in protest, but it was no use. He pushed her to the ground and covered her body with his, and she felt the familiar tears start to form in her eyes. She screamed again…. _

Amarantine sat bolt upright with a gasp. Eyes wide open, it did not take long for her sight to adjust to the pitch darkness of the dormitory, and she recognized the sleeping figures of the other girls. Slowly, her breathing calmed, but she could not seem to stop the cold tears that ran down her gaunt cheeks. Not wanting to wake the other girls, she grabbed something out of her truck and padded silently to the door of the room. _This can't go on_, she thought. _I can't live like this forever_. Since her capture, she had not had one night of sleep uninterrupted by nightmares. Nightmares that were, unfortunately for her, all too real. She exited through the portrait hole, and not caring what time of the night it was, ran faster and faster through the castle's halls as her tears came on stronger. Finally stopping, not knowing or caring where she was, she slid down the wall of the corridor and opened her hand to reveal what she had taken from her trunk. The sharp blade of the knife gleamed in the moonlight that shone in through a nearby window. Amarantine stared at the knife, awed by its simplicity and beauty. Then, she raised it up and drew it through the fair, soft skin of her wrist, watching intently as a thick stream of beautiful blood began to flow. A few more cuts, and the blood became a brighter red and began to pulse out in great quantity. Amarantine smiled slightly, sighed, then slumped against the wall, unconscious and nightmare-free.


End file.
